what point is there to dwell
when we love before knowing how
peeling at slightest touch
taking taste as their fond vows
still, your wee fibrous locks they'll spit
although you seem to hide
in believing a mandarine to be
the orange of their lives
some trails are merely perpendicular
yet even so will root a lot
see, breathe, each new and fossilled stem
“the world forgetting, by the world forgot”